Linda Warren - Deep In The Heart Of Texas

“Why you stopping?”

“This branch has been broken.” Spike’s voice was loud and clear.

Miranda clamped a hand over her mouth. Oh, no. They’d found it. Now they’d probably find them. She tried to breathe normally and to control her fear, but nothing worked until she looked into his dark determined eyes and knew he could take care of this situation. Knew she could trust him.

They listened carefully.

“So? Probably an animal,” the other man said.

“Or a person.” They heard the creaking of leather as Spikes obviously dismounted. “Let’s check it out.”

“The hermit’s not that dumb. He ain’t gonna leave broken branches.”

“He doesn’t have time to be careful. Now get off that horse and help me.”

The sound of creaking leather reached them again. “Whata we looking for?”

“We’re looking for them, you idiot. Check this thicket and those bushes. They could be hiding anywhere around here.”

They heard the two men moving and Miranda’s throat locked tight. The hermit remained completely still, his eyes on the cave entrance.

Any moment those man could find them. Any moment…

The voices grew faint as the men searched, then suddenly Spikes’s words came nearer, and nearer and Miranda thought her nerves were going to snap.

“Dammit to hell, Peavy, where the hell could they be?”

“Told ya the hermit ain’t gonna leave no broken branch.”

“Shut up, Peavy, I need to think.”

“’Bout what? That dang hermit’s takin’ her to Maddox.”

“But they’re not there yet. We gotta stop ’em or we’ll never see a dime of that money.”

“How? That hermit, he knows these hills fer better than us and he ain’t gonna make it easy.”

“You’re the most pessimistic bastard I’ve ever met. They’re walking south, so they have to be in this area. We’ll find ’em. We have to.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Putting a bullet in that hermit is gonna make all this worthwhile.”

“What about the little princess?”

The horses stomped and snorted as they mounted again.

“Ah, the little princess and me are gonna have some fun, and right before I slit her throat, I’ll give her the good news that someone in her family made all this happen. I’m sure she’ll be glad to know who’s paying us.”

There was complete silence as shock wave after shock wave washed over Miranda. Someone in her family had done this to her? Who? Who hated her that much?

“Where the hell could they be?” Spikes’s voice seeped into her nerve endings, making her want to scream—but she didn’t.

“They hidin’ real good.”

“Yeah,” Spikes agreed. “There’s only one thing left to do. You ride over to Beaver Creek and try to find Blackhawk. It’s not far from here and he’s the only one who’ll be able to track the hermit. I’ll keep searching south.”

“Blackhawk? He’s probably drunk. Why do you pay him, anyway? He never does a lick of work.”

“Who says I pay him?” Spikes laughed. “I give Blackhawk money for liquor and pocket the rest. Blackhawk doesn’t complain and Maddox doesn’t have a clue. He leaves all the ranching business to me. He’s busy trying to juggle five wives and an oil company.”

“You a smart son of a bitch.”

“I just know Maddox. The older he gets, the more interest he has in women—and the less interest in business.”

“What if Blackhawk talks?”

“No one’s gonna believe that drunk.”

The sounds receded into the distance, and the hermit slid the pistol into its holster. He turned to a paralyzed Miranda. She was trembling and shaking her head.

“No,” she whimpered. “Not someone in my family.”

His first reaction was to console her, but he couldn’t afford that luxury. Nor could she. She had to be strong to get through this, and he had to deal with Spikes.

“Snap out of it. We don’t have time for hysteria.”

His callousness pushed her over the edge. Before she knew what she was doing, she hit him with her fists, over and over, knocking his hat off. Her blows stunned him only for a second. In one swift movement, she was on her back, staring up into dark threatening eyes.

His right hand gripped her throat, holding her immobile. “I could cut off your windpipe in just a few seconds.” His dark hair fell forward, almost covering his face, giving him a wild look, but all she saw were his eyes, the warm dark eyes reaching the coldest part of her heart.

He hoped to put the fear of God into her. If she was afraid of him, then she’d forget Spikes and his words.

“But you won’t,” she said with more confidence than he liked.

He continued to hold her. Her skin was soft and the pulse in her neck burned like a steady fire against his hand. Warmth swept through his body from the contact, and he cursed himself for that weakness.

“Don’t count on it,” he replied gruffly, and waited to see fear in her eyes—the fear he’d seen the first time she’d looked at him. But there was only sadness.

“Go ahead, then,” she taunted him. “Finish me off. It’ll be better than what Spikes has in store for me. Did you hear what he said?” She closed her eyes in pain, then opened them quickly. “Promise you’ll shoot me before you let him take me.”

The thought of Spikes touching her body, raping her, was more than she could bear. She was trying to be strong, but she couldn’t handle that.

At the entreaty in her voice, he removed his hand and sagged against the wall. She scrambled to her knees to face him, pushing the hair out of her eyes.

“Please, don’t let Spikes hurt me.”

“I’ll do my best,” he answered quietly, trying to dispel the image of Spikes touching her.

“No, no,” she persisted. “If he has us cornered or something, promise that you’ll shoot me.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“Please,” she begged. “I have to know he won’t be able to do those awful things to me.”

“As I said, I’ll do my best.”

“What is it?” she asked in desperation. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes held hers with a numbing force. “I’ve killed before, and it’s not something I want on my conscience again.”

“Oh,” she breathed, her own eyes enormous.

He watched the conflicting emotions skim over her pale face. Her expression wasn’t filled with fear, though, just shock and some other feeling he couldn’t identify. But it was similar enough to fear for his purposes. He leaned in and whispered, “You have reason to be wary, so if I were you, I wouldn’t be asking a man to kill you. A man you know nothing about.”

He didn’t get the reaction he wanted.

“Oh, but I do know you.” Her lips curved softly. “I don’t know your name or where you came from, but I know the man in here.” She laid her hand on his heart. “You’re strong yet gentle, stubborn but caring, and you’ll protect me, a perfect stranger, with your dying breath.”

He looked at the soft fingers pressed into his chest, and without thinking, he let his hand close over hers and hold it tight.

It was the second time he’d freely touched her and she was beginning to like it. They stared at each other, their eyes locked in a silent communication.

He wanted to deny her words, insist that he didn’t care anything about her, but in a matter of a few hours, he’d become fully involved with her. And she was right—he would die to protect her.

Miranda gazed into his eyes and experienced a moment of revelation. She’d been searching for something all her life. She didn’t know what, but her life wasn’t complete. Something had always been missing. Now, as their eyes met and she looked into the warmth of his, she felt as if she’d found whatever she had lacked.